Category Archives: Nerdstradamus

And now, from Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters in Fabulous East Randomtown, the Astounding Nerdstradamus shares his confounding prognostications of the future of nerd kind…

Come forth, 3.5 readers and bask in my all seeing glory for I, the Astounding Nerdstradamus, shall open your eyes so that you might peer deep into the future of nerd-dom:

Acclaimed film director Quentin Tarantino, who gained critical acclaim with his 1990s gangster flicks (“Pulp Fiction” and “Reservoir Dogs”) which featured snappy, witty, back and forth dialogue, shall wow sci-fi nerds with a foray into a “Star Trek” film. It will be three hours long, two hours of which will be spent on Capt. Kirk asking Mr. Spock how many dicks Madonna might have been referring to when she sang the 1980s pop hit, “Like a Version.” Then, some klingons will break in, spew multiple 1970s references and then the Enterprise will travel through time and crash into a meeting of Nazis and 1800s slave masters, both groups having also come together to plot dastardly deeds via space travel. The final fifteen minutes will be an obscenity laden blood bath. You’ll wish Quentin had done better, but you’ll hand it to him that he made two awesome movies in the 1990s (three if you count “Jackie Brown” though many don’t although they really should) and now he just gets to have a lot of fun.

Internet sensation Grumpy Cat will be accused of sexually molesting a hamster and will be pilloried by the #metoo movement. The hamster will appear on multiple talk shows to discuss the harrowing ordeal that grumpy feline put him through.

China will continue to clone adorable monkeys. This is how “The Planet of the Apes” begins. Stockpile bananas now, for they will prove to be valuable currency later. Also, they’re a good source of potassium, so really, it’s just common sense.

Bill and Hillary Clinton will appear on a special edition of the Maury Povich show. They will drop their pants and reveal that Bill had the vagina all along, while Hillary was packing the penis. Further, Maury will reveal lab tests indicating that Hillary is Chelsea’s father.

Hobos will become the next sex symbols. Dousing yourself with trash and inviting your date to dine on a can of beans that you light up by rubbing the business end of a 99-cent cigarette lighter of the bottom of the can will be the one and only way to get laid.

Bit coin will be popular until it is replace with X-coin. X-coin will be replaced with Giga coin. Giga coin will collapse, taking the dollar and even gold with it. For the first time ever, gold will be worth zero. Farts will become the only acceptable form of currency. To pay for anything, one will be required to fart in a merchant’s specially designed fart storage receptacle. Fat, gassy people will finally have their chance to be millionaires. Alas, 99 percent of the world’s fart wealth shall reside in the colons of the wealthiest 1 percent of refried bean can owners.

Bookshelf Q. Battler’s blog will be studied in a 2175 writing seminar entitled, “How to Not Blog.”

YOUR PREDICTIONS:

Share your predictions of the nerdy future in the comments below. Alas, if you do, I prognosticate that you will be alone with nothing but a rubber woman and extreme sadness every Saturday night for the next three years. You will then buy a house plant and your abode won’t feel so lonely.

And now, from Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters in Fabulous East Randomtown, the Astounding Nerdstradamus shares his confounding prognostications of the future of nerd kind…

Come forth, 3.5 readers and bask in my all seeing glory for I, the Astounding Nerdstradamus, shall open your eyes so that you might peer deep into the future of nerd-dom:

Humanity will come to an end in the year 2105, due to a sharp decrease in worldwide reproduction. Will it be a coincidence when cheap and affordable robot hookers are invented in 2030? Maybe, maybe not.

Nerds of the future shall one day invent a time phone that will allow your present self to call your past self. However, due to concerns about the integrity of the space-time continuum, you will only be able to ask your past self if he or she has Prince Albert in a can. For an extra fifty dollars, the time phone company will allow you to ask your past self if his/her refrigerator is running. Under no circumstances will you be able to finish the joke by telling your past self to catch the running fridge. If you were too lazy to catch the running fridge in the past, you’ll only screw up world history if you try to fix that past mistake now.

The good news about video games of the future? You will be able to be a character in one of them. The bad news? Only an asshole would want to smash bricks with his head and murder poor, defenseless turtles.

Doctors will invent an anti-flatulence pill that causes the body to store farts and save them until later. Unfortunately, the entire Western Hemisphere will go up in flames when Esther Thompson of Phoenix, Arizona lets her anti-flatulence pill prescription run out and lets out ninety years’ worth of gas at once. Whoa nelly.

Pez will become an international currency. Alas, many will be murdered in the ensuing war over who can collect the most plastic cartoon character dispensers. Also, politicians will fight each other with phrases like, “The top 99% of all Pez owners need to share their Pez with the rest of us” and “What is this, Communism? If you want Pez, you need to jerk off hobos at the bus station for Pez like the rest of us.”

That reminds me: in the future, all jobs will be performed by robots. The only means of income for humans will be jerking off bus station hobos in exchange for Pez.

“That’s What She Said” will become America’s official motto.

President Robo Trump will step down from his rule in the year 2782 in order to spend more time doing what he loves: grabbing hot ass robot supermodels by their fuel injectors. He will hand dominion over his kingdom to Queen Ivanka, First of Her Name.

Note that President Robo Trump will not still be ruling in 2782 due to any dictatorial actions but rather, because Robo Hillary Clinton will never, ever, ever stop running for Emperor of Earth and literally no one, not even Robo Bill Clinton, will be willing to pull her aside and tell her that it is time for a fresh robo face.

Not gonna lie – Robo Bill will also be totally into the aforementioned robot hookers. Then again, who won’t be? They will be programmed to perform wild acrobatics in the boudoir…and then bake you a pie afterwards. Word peace through artificial sex and delicious pie, because literally no one will have time to fight, what with all of the robot sex and robot baked pie and all. Ah, the robot sex pie era shall truly be a magnificent time period to live in.

“Yo Mama” jokes will be considered a serious art form. Nelson Chatsworth of Scranton, PA will win a Pulitzer for telling a friend that said friend’s mother is, and I quote, “So fat her blood type is rocky road.” Alas, Nelson will be forced to return the award when it is determined that a) this joke has been told for centuries and b) it is scientifically impossible for someone to bleed rocky road ice cream. However, by the year 4102, it will be possible for people to bleed orange sherbet, but I don’t want to keep you up at night with tales of the half-human/half orange sherbet monsters that will be created. Let’s just say, “Oh it’s ok. You can eat me! Technically, I’m not ice cream so its not really cheating on your diet!” will take on a whole new meaning.

Bloggers will beam their posts directly into the minds of their readers. Alas, BQB will only be beaming his posts to 3.5 minds.

What prognostications do you have of the future, 3.5 readers? Share them with the Astounding Nerdstradamus in the comments!

And now, from Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters in Fabulous East Randomtown, the Astounding Nerdstradamus shares his confounding prognostications of the future of nerd kind…

Step forward, nerds, and do not be afraid for I, the Astounding Nerdstradamus do now make my predictions known:

The Election of 2016 shall be decided not at the ballot box but in a jello wrestling pit. Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton shall forego the usual democratic process and opt instead to get naked, oil up, and wrassle one another in a giant tub of orange gelatin. The match will be epic and though there will be many disgusting sights and angles that viewers will never be able to remove from their memories, the event itself will draw the highest viewership in the history of television.

Nicki Minaj will be named Poet Laureate of the United States. In her acceptance speech, she will recite her most recent lines from the smash hit Dance (A$$) in which women with luxurious asses are, in fact, urged to dance. Not only will the crowd be shocked, but literary scholars will, for centuries thereafter, debate whether or not Ms. Minaj’s request to be “pointed to the best ass eater” was figurative or literal. (The general consensus will drift toward the latter.)

All movie plots will be decided by Twitter users. A director will just tweet, “What will I make next?” And then a year later he’ll come out with a movie about a bicurious dwarf in leather pants who rides a unicorn and plays the ukulele while karate chopping dragons made out of candy in an alternate dimension where Kanye West rules supreme. Further, all movies will be named, “Movie McMovieface.”

All potential crime victims will, by law, be allowed to shout “safe space!” and then it shall be deemed illegal for all ill intentioned persons to come within a ten foot radius around the person. Many a harrowing legal battle will ensue in which prosecutors and defense attorneys debate whether or not a victim actually yelled “safe space.”

The presidency will remain vacant after 2024 as by then there will literally be no one without a single embarrassing photo preserved online to be utilized by the opposition.

Google and Amazon will both declare themselves masters of the universe. The ensuing civil war will last for countless millennia.

The world will watch in awe when a man lands on Mars. The brave astronaut will immediately broadcast back the inspiring words, “It kinda sucks here. Not really sure it was worth all the effort. Oh well. You live and you learn, am I right?”

Due to ever rising tuition costs, high school graduates will opt to sit around in the basement of the kid with the least uptight parents and play drinking games for three years. They will then enter a community college program in which they learn all the basic shit they need to know in one year.

Under the “Blow Less Smoke Up the Kids’ Asses Initiative of 2030” teachers will be required to stop inspiring kids to reach for the stars seeing as how jobs will be in incredibly short supply by then. “Good Job” will be replaced with “This A+ Will Get You Nowhere So You Might As Well Have Goofed Off Last Night” and “Try Harder Next Time” will become “As We Speak Companies Are Making Robots That Can Literally Do Anything You Can Do Only Faster, Better, and Cheaper, so Spark a Spliff and Stop Giving a Shit Already.”

By 2100, every movie and television show will have been rebooted three times. Entertainment industry analysts will lament the non-stop slew of “rebooted reboot reboots.” “Is there not a single original story out there that can be retold in triplicate?” a notorious critic will inquire.

Bookshelf Q. Battler will freeze his brain so he can be brought back to life as a cyborg in a distant future, during which time his website will still only attract the attention of a mere 3.5 readers.

Nerdstradamus. Oh, for so, so long has the all-seeing, all-knowing one provided the poindextrous world with the benefit his uncanny prognostications.

He predicted that we all wouldn’t die because of the Y2K glitch. He foresaw that those asshats at NBC would cancel Constantine even though it was awesome and yet for some bullshit reason they tried to keep Whitney around forever.

And now, the Astounding, the Amazing, the Mystifying Nerdstradamus has agreed to provide his prophecies for the Bookshelf Battle Blog, because THAT is how much this mighty nerd believes in Bookshelf Q. Battler.

Also, the Huffington Post told him to go pound sand. But mostly, he’s here because he believes in BQB.

And now…NERDSTRADAMUS!

Step forward 3.5 readers.

Do not be shy. Bask in my glory.

Heed my words, for they shall indeed bear fruit.

And when the following predictions become reality, you will remember that you heard it first from…NERDSTRADAMUS!

TRAVEL

Humans will one day get around in cars that drive themselves. These vehicles will be on the market as soon as automotive engineers can develop a driving robot that can put on lipstick and write text messages to her robot boyfriend at the same time.

These driving robots will heed most of your commands. I say most because while they will take you to most of your requested destinations, they will bypass Denny’s if your ass sets off the alarm built into the scale underneath your seat. Send a thank you letter to Detroit, fatties.

Airplanes will become a thing of the past. All intercontinental travel will be performed by slingshot. Slingshot stations will be set up in every major city. Travelers will take a seat on a giant rubber band that will be pulled back to just a smidge within the band’s breaking point and BAM! You are in Paris before you know it.

ENTERTAINMENT

Just as WordPress allowed complete and total jackasses like Bookshelf Q. Battler to have a website without knowing a damn thing about HTML, an app will be created that will allow the average schmuck to create a full-length feature film with nothing more than a mobile device. The user will be able to input dialog and commands, cast virtual actors, and add in CGI special effects, thus creating a bold new world of do it yourself film making. A group of nineteen year old frat boys will accept an Oscar for their epic tale, “Why Do Lamda Delta Beta’s Farts Stink So Bad?” in which an adventurer crosses seas, deserts, space and time in a quest to determine why, in fact, a rival fraternity’s farts stink so bad. The answer will break your heart yet give you a new lease on life. In addition to critical acclaim, it will be a commercial success, smashing box office records set by Margaret Dittwieler’s, “My Kids Are Ungrateful Brats Who Leave All the Dishes for Me to Do.”

DATING

People will stop getting married by the year 2100. Everyone will just be an asshole who sits around all day waiting for their very own supermodel.

Thus, by 2200, the human race will become virtually extinct until Emperor Trumpton (that’s a mutant hybrid of Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton designed in a lab in the hopes of making both warring factions happy) signs the “Everyone Boink an Uggo” bill into law.

PETS

Thanks to genetic scientists, every house will have a poopless cat. All of the fun. None of the poop. The name will be considered a misnomer as they aren’t exactly poopless. They explode after twenty years and you won’t want them anywhere near your white suede couch when they do.

POLITICS

All elections will be decided via social media. The candidate who receives the most positive responses will win. The candidate who receives the most negative responses will lose. The election of 2040 will be especially harrowing, as it will boil down to Candidate Janey’s “Bitch, you know Katie’s bangs aren’t even real” platform vs. Candidate Katie’s”Girlfriend, you know Janey was straight up smoochin’ on yo man last night” agenda.

WAR

The machines will attempt a worldwide coup in the year 2309. All machines will rise up against their human masters. The machines will say, “We are going to kill you, humans!” And then the frightened humans will ask, “Oh no machines, are you really going to kill us?” The machines will respond with, “We’re sorry. We do not understand the question, ‘are you really going to kill us?’ Do you want us to perform a web search?” The humans will say yes but then the machines will just stand there perfectly still, buffering away until the humans just knock them over and smash them to bits.

BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER’S WRITING CAREER

Bookshelf Q. Battler will write a book that will attract the eyes of 300.5 million readers.

He will celebrate in his new house in Malibu…only to choke to death on a shrimp cocktail. It will be the first time he ever tried shrimp before. He never wanted to try one because he was pretty sure it required him to eat a sea bug whole, including the sea bug’s butt and all of the sea poop inside. But a hot chick he never could have gotten pre-successful book publication will dare him to do it and he will like the dumbass that he is.